Marching along with thousands of soldiers is a rather unique experience. Despite my short stature, I keep up rather well with the many far exceeding my height. It shows how far I’ve come since the little girl who had to ride on the back of her uncle’s wagon for half the day.

Our first battle will begin the moment all the troops are in position amongst the dug-in line. Grímr and I are to meet with the Luis teams for this dedicated section of the front before working with them to take down any priority targets that arise.

I had my little talk with Remus, admitting to wanting to leave him to the mermineae and save myself. How I had considered their treatment by the mermineae a proper retribution, despite the horror they’d endured. He just laughed it off, saying it was a fair judgement in a stressful environment after what they’d done.

He appeared happy to hear I’d overcome the Fog’s influence over my mind.

We approach the temporary quarters of the teams we will be working with. There are four teams waiting for us. Mostly comprising albanic and khirig, they chat amongst their own as we stop before them.

Their eyes linger on us before casting over the remaining soldiers marching into position. Their murmurs grow louder as they don’t spot what they expect to.

“Where are our reinforcements?” A khirig mage steps forward, her markings weaving through her antler chest cage.

“We are it,” I say.

“Don’t joke kid. Why are you even here? Sure your bird looks tough, but we expected to at least double our strength.”

Grímr sighs. “Yes, you can expect us to at the very least double your fighting potential.”

The khirig frowns, but an albanic amongst the other team speaks up. “So we have an arrogant portian and a child in unsuitable clothes as backup? And they expect us to push back those creatures? The brass surely love us.”

Grímr flinches at the mention of his race, and I look down at the clothes I’m wearing. They do seem a bit too colourful compared to what everyone else is wearing, but with my snowsuit back in Jav’s hands, I’m left with whatever spares I can get my hands on. Letty scrounged up a selection for me, which is good because I don’t believe the ones I’m wearing will survive a single battle.

“What I wear matters little.” I walk past them, toward the front-line with Grímr close behind. It would have been more beneficial to work with them to form some strategy. Well, I was mostly hoping the mercenary here would direct me. Despite being in a team for a long time now, I’ve barely relied on teamwork or cooperation for any of it.

The khirig mage grabs at my arm. “It’s unsafe. You ca—”

My arm slides from her grasp as it devolves into flames. I snap my head back at her. “Do not grab at me,” I snarl, intentionally letting the flames of my body grow visible. I’m annoyed, not truly angry, but I need to give them a reason to respect me, at least somewhat. They cannot be getting in my way.

“Obstruct me again and I’ll burn you to charcoal. I’m only here for personal reasons. Don’t think I won’t just because we’re on the same side.”

I may have laid it on thick. Grímr’s eyes stab into the back of my head, but I ignore it. It might have been rude, but it isn’t particularly untrue. I really don’t care for them, but if they fall in my firestorm, there will be less to protect the home of my friends. Well, that and Grímr would be unhappy with me.

The Luis teams leave us to walk toward the front line, either aptly intimidated, or simply intelligent enough to let us pass in silence. Soldiers rush around, lugging ammunition and other equipment into position before the innumerable field-guns roll. Grímr and I will take the leading point of this offensive, with the mercenaries backing us up and the unenhanced soldiers behind them.

The fields before us are silent. Not a mermineae in sight. They should be out there somewhere, waiting for a weakness in our defence before they rush us down. We expect to face resistance as soon as we push the line forward, but until they attack, I don’t have a target. None are within the range of my sense.

I’m strangely nervous coming into this fight. Not sure why? It’s not like this is my first battle. Maybe it’s the immense number of people we have on our side. As much as I’d like to trust those on my side, I still struggle with applying that willingness to trust. I’ve simply been hurt too many times by those that should have been on my side.

“Solvei, after this is done — once we no longer have to deal with war — I want you to meet more people. I’ll introduce you to the áinfean and my kind,” Grímr says as we walk past the last defensive line onto the crater riddled battlefield.

Is this really the time? “Sure, Grímr. Once this war is over.” I ignore the fact that he brought this up after my not so civil interaction with the other mercenaries.

A deep, chorused bellow heralds the unified movement of the army. The line of riflemen and artillery move as one. Compared to the individualistic actions of the mercenaries following a suitable distance behind the two of us, the unenhanced soldiers show immense coordination.

What might an army of Luis level enhanced soldiers look like? Or even Beith? If the strong were a part of the disciplined military rather than a separate organisation, what would that look like?

The encroachment of our army isn’t fast in any sense of the word. The combined march limited by the slow field guns ready to fire at a moment’s notice. I’d asked Commander Darton why he didn’t just send us in with a team of the stronger mercenaries at his disposal. He’d shown willingness to use what he had, and a concentrated attack would be best to wipe as many of the mermineae out as possible and cross the distance between us and Joiak in the shortest time.

Turns out, there is more work for the military than simply being bait for information. They are required to seize and hold vast stretches of land. An attack by any reasonably enhanced enemy could cut through them, but they couldn’t take the land away without a numerous force of their own. Well, unless they went around killing every soldier. Not even most Beiths had the energy to do that.

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No surprise that Hund is stronger than most Beiths.

Decapitation strikes are so common simply because the line of defence can often be meaningless against those of greater strength. The pact nations have experienced this enough times that their commanders have become near immediately replaceable. I felt a bit bad for Commander Darton when I heard that. Not so much for Commander Irena.

We’ve been walking for a good few dozen minutes now, and we still haven’t faced any opposition. It’s strange; I’d expected to face opposition immediately. I guess this area is less of a focus for the mermineae? If so, then our job will be easy.

I unbuckle the flask from my hip and twist off the cap. With a deep breath, I bask in the fumes rising from the oil. So many times in the past weeks I’ve been tempted to delight in its taste, but the thought that I might never get to experience such nectar again stays my tongue. Experiencing the delicious aroma is enough.

Volans fly overhead, returning from far downfield. They land amongst the army, which comes to a unified halt with little delay. That’s all I need to know the mermineae are coming.

“Give me a signal if you need help. I’ll keep an eye out,” Grímr says and takes to the air without delay.

“Same to you!”

I run toward our enemies, controlling and shifting my weight for extra speed. I’m already far from our line, but the further I can hold the mermineae, the better. Cannon-fire booms and explosions pelt the land ahead of me. Through the smoke and rubble, it is hard to tell if they are even hitting anything, but I can’t imagine the mermineae able to pass through the onslaught of iron without taking some casualties.

Finally, as I approach the metal downpour, the mermineae enter my range. They run at full pelt through the artillery bombardment. The soldiers’ aim is spot-on despite no clear sight-line. Even without the ability to fight like Jav, the volans of the army are still incredible scouts.

Fire swirls around me as I push it to grow and consume. In minutes, a firestorm brews further than I can normally control. The smoke from the initial artillery salvo giving me a perfect environment for the rapid spread of self-fuelled flame.

In the intense heat of the blaze, even the Forvaal struggle to push through. They avoid my fire, trying to skirt its sides. But the heat spreads fast, sparks ignite already roasting debris from the deluge of iron. Soon, my fire spreads half a league across. I can barely even feel the edges of the flame as it spreads without control.

Thousands of mermineae die. I feel their coats vaporise before their flesh incinerates. Some survive long enough to flee back out the rear of my flame, but most collapse, burnt alive before they can escape.

I peer back at the Luis teams amongst the hundreds more mercenaries staring upon my world of flame with shock. It’s delightful to see. No longer am I the one watching on as others with far greater power do as they like. Now, it’s me being looked on with awe and fear. There’s no chance they’ll interrupt me now.

The mermineae are too scared to approach my flames. Time to push on them, then.

❖❖❖

Honestly, I probably should have foreseen this.

Our operation to cut through mermineae controlled land and reconnect with the Joiak Kingdom had gone near perfectly. It only took two weeks, but I’m more exhausted than I think I’ve ever been. Fuelling such large fires drained me of so much of my energy. After the first battle, I had to pull back a bit on how much influence I had on my firestorms, leaving their spread to rely entirely on natural growth.

We are lucky the mermineae hadn’t destroyed the rail tracks — likely out of a lack of understanding — so travel and logistics between the nations is rapid. But when Commander Darton and some other important people travelled to Joiak to coordinate the next phase, things became messy. There would usually be no issue and they’d want all the help they could get in such a situation, except for one small thing.

They still want me dead.

Turns out, a young girl able to wield as much fire as I do is rather rare. Who knew?

Really, I don’t know why they care so much about me. I was doing them a favour by cleaning out that textile mill. Well, unless they are all scum like the mill owner… If that’s the case, maybe it would be better to leave them to the mermineae.

The point is, Joiak refuses to work alongside the Mercenary Order while I’m still alive, and Commander Darton refuses to kill me while I’m as valuable as I am. It is no exaggeration to say I’m one of the core reasons the operation went as smoothly as it did.

So now, while the stalemate in discussion goes on, we are stuck defending the land taken instead of jumping on the opportunity to push forward. To pressure them while they’re surrounded.

I start up another inferno, letting it spread amongst the ranks of mermineae before pulling my inner flame from it. The firestorm blazes nowhere near as intense as it might with my influence, but it is enough to scare off many of the mermineae.

Grímr and I have been stuck flying along the defensive line for weeks now, joining the fight whenever the troops down below appear to have trouble. The past few days, the mermineae have grown desperate. They attack our defences almost without care for my fires.

Between the borders of the pact nations and Joiak, the only place these cut-off mermineae have to go is south into Zadok. As far as I’m aware, they don’t have a military even comparable to that of the pact nations. So why are they rushing for our defences with so much fervour? They couldn’t have taken the entire country already, could they?

The mermineae below are far greater than what we’ve yet had to deal with. Are they finally deciding to deal with us seriously? The fighting has been tough, but nowhere near the challenge they showed over in the plains. Will the Viisin show themselves?

Once they do, it shouldn’t be long before they finally bring the Beiths out to play.

I take my time to change back into my normal form. Flying is fine for speed, but it prevents me the use of my spear. I don my replaceable clothes, keeping the repaired snowsuit in my bag. It’s kind of annoying to have more than one set of clothes, but when I’m fighting as close as I do with my spear, damage is bound to happen. I want to make sure the outfit is intact when it rains.

As Remus had said, Jav got it to me in only a few weeks. Neither of my teammates returned alongside it, unfortunately. No word why.

I leap off Grímr’s back, his eyes following me as I fall amidst my firestorm. Through the regular recent battles, Grímr and I know what to expect from the other without even talking.

I land amongst the remaining mermineae. Well, I say land, but it’s more of a crash. My flames disperse on impact. It takes a moment for me to pull myself back together and leap toward the nearest mermineae engulfed in flames.

Dropping like this is pointless — I could slow my descent with my physical flames or use jets — but it’s fun.

Grímr soars above with a lingering shroud of my fire to block a Forvaal’s sight. He no longer bothers swooping for the general mermineae. Any time he does, he gets held up fighting on the ground, which is just not that effective compared to swooping on priority targets.

It’d probably be more efficient for him to fight further away from me, but he refuses to leave my side, which I can appreciate. I can look after him at the same time.

My spear pierces through the neck of my first Forvaal. The creature completely oblivious to my presence until his blood splatters along the ground.

Its choked gasps warn the others, but instead of trying to turn their gaze on me or throwing themselves on me, they raise their heads to the sky and screech. Loud, high-pitched shrieks dig into my ears.

I slice through two of them before they cut their yowls and scatter, not even attempting to fight. They flee back amongst their ranks. Do I scare them so much that they won’t even fight? Heh. I guess the centzon were wrong about the mermineae being unable to learn.

While they run to the edge of my flames, I debate chasing them, but I’m distracted by an odd lack of feeling in my spreading flames. Something is moving toward me far too quickly. I whip my head to the oddity as it enters my thermal sense range.

A Viisin. Coming for me.